


Soft and Deep

by superqueerdanvers



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1814, Cold-Blooded Crowley (Good Omens), Cuddling, M/M, Modern Era, Winter, brumation, hibernation, snake biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 17:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20313502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superqueerdanvers/pseuds/superqueerdanvers
Summary: When it gets cold, many reptiles do something called "brumation," which is similar to hibernation in mammals. Since Crowley is a snake, he also brumates.It's February 1814, and Aziraphale wants to take Crowley to the Frost Fair on the River Thames. When Crowley doesn't respond to his note, Aziraphale decides to go to his house and check on him.





	1. February 1814

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this fic is based off the final line of "Winter Sleep" by Elinor Wylie: "Soft, soft, soft, and deep, deep, deep!"

February 1814

Aziraphale paced through his bookshop. Why hadn’t Crowley responded yet? He had sent the note[1] hours ago, and Crowley’s responses were usually quite prompt. Perhaps he had not received the note. That had never happened before, but Aziraphale supposed it was possible. He resolved to go to Crowley’s house and invite him in person.

A little later, he was at Crowley’s door. He knocked, but there was no response. He frowned, then knocked again. “Crowley?” he called. “I sent you a note earlier. Did you get it?” Still nothing. “Crowley?”

Was Crowley ignoring him? Aziraphale quickly dismissed the thought; Crowley had been perfectly friendly last time they met. There must be another explanation. Maybe Crowley was simply out of town. But that also seemed unlikely; Crowley hadn’t mentioned needing to do any temptations lately. Suddenly, his stomach dropped. What if something had happened to Crowley? Aziraphale glanced around, and when he was sure no one was looking, he snapped his fingers to unlock the door.

He stepped into Crowley’s house to find it cold and dark, and when he miracled the lamps lit, he saw that it was dusty as well. He glanced down and saw his note on top of a pile of unopened mail in front of the door. He put the note in his pocket and continued through the house. Crowley was not anywhere on the ground floor, so he headed upstairs. He paused at Crowley’s closed bedroom door. Surely it would be an intrusion to enter his bedroom without permission. Aziraphale knocked. “Crowley? It’s me, Aziraphale.” Again, there was no response, although by now Aziraphale had not expected one.

He shouldn’t go in. He shouldn’t even be there. What was he doing, going to a demon’s house to check on his wellbeing? He was sure to be reprimanded. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that he needed to find Crowley and make sure he was all right. Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale opened the door.

Crowley was lying in bed with his back to the door. Relieved, Aziraphale burst out, “Crowley! Oh, it’s good to see you. I was so worried when you didn’t respond to my note! Oh, and I’m sorry to come to come into your bedroom uninvited, I’ll leave now…Crowley?”

Crowley had not moved. Warily, Aziraphale approached him and touched his shoulder. His skin was cold, and his yellow eyes stared blankly at the wall. Had he been discorporated? No, Aziraphale touched his throat and found a pulse. But so faint…he must be near discorporation.

With a thought, Aziraphale lit a blazing fire in the fireplace. Then he pulled Crowley into his arms and carried him over to the fire. He was so cold. Holding him close to share body heat, Aziraphale began to rub Crowley’s freezing hands, arms, and back.[2] “You’re going to be all right, Crowley, I promise. I’ll get you warmed up, and everything will be just fine. Just stay with me, my dear,” he rambled.

Nothing. Crowley stayed cold and still, his pulse weak. Aziraphale moved closer to the fire, as close as he could get without being burned. He cradled Crowley in his lap, Crowley’s head tucked under his chin, his arms around Crowley’s torso. “What happened?” he asked softly. “Did someone do this to you? Were you injured? Are you ill? My dear Crowley, why didn’t you have a fire going?”

Crowley didn’t respond. Aziraphale looked at the bed, remembered how cold those blankets had been when he had picked Crowley up, and miracled a large, warm, tartan blanket around them both. He held Crowley’s hands to his lips and blew warm air onto them. “Come on, Crowley, wake up. Warm up. Please, my dear.” He buried his face in Crowley’s hair. “_Please_.”

After what felt like days but was probably only a few minutes, Crowley stirred. “Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed, surreptitiously wiping away tears. “You’re awake!”

Crowley shifted position, then looked blearily up at Aziraphale. “’Ziraphale?” he mumbled.

“Yes! Oh, my dear, what happened? Are you all right?”

“”M brumating.”

“Brumating?”

“It’s cold. Snakes don’t like cold. So we brumate. ‘S’like sleeping,” Crowley explained.

“But my dear, your eyes were open!”

Crowley sighed. “Snakes don’t have eyelids.”

“What?! That’s – but – _what_?” Aziraphale sputtered.

“You can go read up about snakes. _I’m_ going back to bed.” Crowley pulled himself to his feet, grabbed the tartan blanket, and staggered stiffly back to the bed.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale protested. He raised a hand to touch Crowley’s arm, then stopped. “I was worried about you.”

Crowley met his angel’s eyes. “I’m fine,” he replied gently.

After a minute, Aziraphale blinked and glanced away. “Right. Well, I suppose I should be going. Ah, do you want the fire, or…”

Crowley shook his head, and the fire went out. “Not when I’m brumating.”

Aziraphale nodded and turned to go. “Right. Sorry for waking you. Good night.”

Just before he closed the door, Crowley called, “Angel? Thank you.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Of course.” And shut the door, not entirely sure what he was being thanked for.

[1] My Dear Crowley,

Have you heard about the Frost Fair? The River Thames has frozen over, and the good people of London have organized a sort of festival on the frozen river! There will be food and drink, and I hear an elephant will be paraded across the river. Would you like to join me for dinner there tonight?

Yours affectionately,

Aziraphale

[2] Massaging the limbs of someone with hypothermia can stress the heart and lungs and do more harm than good. However, Aziraphale did not know that, because he was used to healing people with miracles, not medicine. He would have liked to simply miracle Crowley back to health, but he could not heal demons as easily as he healed humans.


	2. November, After the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't, Aziraphale invites Crowley to stay in the bookshop.

November, After the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t

When Adam Young stopped the apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale quickly found themselves without sides. As they learned to navigate this new life, they found themselves relying on each other more and more, and their relationship changed. The Arrangement had started simply as a way to accomplish blessings and temptations more efficiently, although it became much more than that with time. This new relationship, however, came from trust, support, and love from the start.

Now, it was a crisp autumn evening, and Crowley and Aziraphale were drinking in the bookshop. Crowley finished his glass of wine, then stood reluctantly. “Well, I suppose I should be going.”

Aziraphale reached over and caught his hand. “Wait.” He took a deep breath. “Why don’t you stay?”

“What?” Crowley didn’t know how to respond. What did Aziraphale mean? Was he simply inviting Crowley to have another drink? Was he suggesting something more? What was going on?

“Do you remember when I found you brumating and woke you up?”

“Yes…” Crowley said, not sure where this was going.

“You told me to read up on snakes, and I did. And…why don’t you brumate here?”

“Ngk.”

“I don’t sleep, so I never use my bedroom, but my bed must be more comfortable than that hard white thing you sleep on. And I’ve been reading about how to care for a brumating snake –“

“Ngk,” Crowley said again, but Aziraphale kept going.

“—And how to build a hibernaculum. I’ve done my best to make my bedroom into a good one. Would you like to see?”

“Ngk,” Crowley replied, following Aziraphale up the stairs.

Aziraphale opened the door to reveal a small room furnished with a bed, a bedside table, a chest of drawers, and a humidifier. Although the furniture was simple and sparse, the décor could not have been further from the stark, white minimalism of Crowley’s flat. For one thing, the furniture was carved from worn, unpainted wood. For another, the bed was heaped with colorful throw blankets.

“I can get this room as cold as you need. The snake books said it was important for you to have something to burrow in, so there are plenty of blankets. And it’s important for a hibernaculum not to get too dry, so I bought a humidifier.” He gestured at the blankets and humidifier, then paused and looked at Crowley. “Do you like it?”

Crowley beamed, his eyes welling with tears. “I love it,” he whispered.

Aziraphale smiled and sighed. “Oh, thank goodness! I’ve been so worried I wasn’t doing it right!”

Crowley squeezed his hand. “You did it perfectly.” He paused and swallowed. “Angel, when you woke me up that time…nobody had ever checked up on me like that. Hell only cared if I disappeared if it affected them. Even then, I just got punished for slacking off. They never checked to see if I was all right. So…thank you.”

Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s cheek in his hand. “Oh, my dear…”

Crowley brushed a stray curl out of Aziraphale’s face, then leaned in and kissed him. “I would love to brumate here,” he said when they finally pulled apart, “but I need to pick some things up from my flat first.”

“Oh, right. Of course.”

“You know, pajamas, a change of clothes, that kind of thing. And my favorite blanket.”

“You have a favorite blanket?” Aziraphale pictured Crowley’s flat, but the only blankets he could remember were the plain white duvet and sheets on the bed. Surely none of those would qualify as Crowley’s favorite blanket?

“Oh, yes,” Crowley smiled. “It’s a tartan blanket, roughly 200 years old, but I work hard to keep it in good shape. I never brumate without it. It was given to me by someone I love very much.”

“You kept it?” Aziraphale asked, stunned.

“Of course. I love you, angel.”

“I love you, my dear.”


End file.
